Dear Diary…
by Phosphorescent
Summary: "Writing in you is stupid. *Really* stupid. You aren't sentient and regardless of what Lily says, I don't 'need an emotional outlet.'" Robin's diary from 7x18: "Karma" onwards, with strong hints of B/R.
1. Robin's Field Journal in Captivity

_Disclaimer: I don't own HIMYM. This fic quotes portions of Robin's diary from 7x18: "Karma," but adds new parts too. By directly quoting Robin's words from the episode, I do not mean to imply that I own them in any way, shape, or form. _

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Robin's Field Journal in Captivity<strong>

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

It is day four on this island, which the natives have dubbed "Long Island," perhaps referencing how each hour here feels like it may never end. So far, they have welcomed me and given me a rare glimpse into their bizarre way of life.

By "entertainment," they mean table shuffleboard, macramé classes, and other non-stimulating activities, which are only used in Manhattan to calm down drug addicts and the criminally insane.

A preliterate society, their menus display pictures of the food they offer. Everyone is forced to sing Happy Birthday four or five times a meal, and dessert has fireworks in it.

In their lairs, they often don a primitive shroud called a "snugget." And it is not uncommon for them to go to sleep before 9 PM, fearing, as they do, the night.

Also, Diary, I think writing in you is stupid, but you are a gift from Lily and she is watching me right now.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

It is still day four. None stir on this island, though the night is young yet. I have been told that strange rituals await me in the morning, such as "Nordic Walking," which I believe is a ceremony meant to summon their Sun God, as the activity begins before the sun has risen.

I dread the morrow.

Also, my phone has no bars here. This sucks.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Thus begins the fifth day of my fieldwork amongst the island natives. They are a strange people, as likely to force feed you flaming desserts as they are to lull you into a coma-like trance of boredom. If I never attend another macramé class, it will be too soon.

Now I like greasy food as much as the next person, but I'm getting kind of tired of Chicken Fried Steak, mushy green beans, and gravy-loaded mashed potatoes. I mean, seriously.

I miss Manhattan, with its lights and clubs and wide assortment of ethnic foods. You can't get decent Japanese, Israeli, or Ethiopian food here for love or money. Not to mention Mexican, and I have the strangest craving for tacos at the moment…

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Writing in you is stupid. _Really_ stupid. You aren't sentient and regardless of what Lily says, I don't "need an emotional outlet."

Pffff. Maybe _she_ needs an emotional outlet, but Sherbatskys are built differently. We don't talk or cry, we suck it up and deal with it. Regardless of what "it" is. Not that I want to talk about "it," mind you. Not that there even _is_ an "it" to talk about!

Remind me why I'm arguing with an inanimate object again? Oh, that's right, you can't because you aren't _alive_.

This is stupid. I don't want to hurt Lily's feelings, though. So… I'll write in you. For now.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I am beginning to suspect that I am being held captive here. When I tried to leave, my native hosts reacted violently. Perhaps their cultural understanding of the guest-host relationship is more complex than I initially thought?

Dinner was Chicken Fried Steak again. And I'm going insane without any form of mental stimulation. It's at times like this that I really wish Bar– never mind.

I'm going to check my phone again. Maybe I'll have service long enough to send Patrice a distress signal.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

What was left of my brain has trickled out through my ears after this afternoon. The locals took me to listen to what they call "music." I fear that if this continues, I will have no will left to resist their efforts to assimilate me into their society.

I have already lost track of the days since I first set foot on this isle. What will go next?

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

The natives gave me my own snugget today, and introduced me one of their holiest rites. While dressed in snuggets, they recline on cushions, eat ice cream _straight from the tub_, and watch their priests perform strange deeds on a glowing screen. I believe that these priests are called "Guidos," though my spelling may be off. The ice cream appears to act as an entheogen, transporting them to a different plane of existence. It's tasty, though. The ice cream, that is.

They're trying to make me one of them, Diary, and I begin to fear… _I may like it_.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I write in you by the flickering of my flashlight, afraid that my hosts will discover my un-Island-ish behavior. It _is_ nearly nine o'clock, after all.

Hmmm, I'm kind of sleepy, actually.

I'll write more lat– hold on _just_ a second! It's only nine o'clock. I haven't just assimilated, I've gone native! This is bad, Diary, very bad.

I need to come up with a plan to escape. But I'll come up with the plan tomorrow. Tonight… tonight, I need to sleep.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I tried to sneak out of the house during the day today. They caught me and forced me back inside.

So it's become clear to me, Diary, that I must attempt a dramatic escape. I will fake a stomach ache during dinner. Then, after Marshall and Lily leave for Bingo Night, I will sneak out the back. I'll swipe Shirley's Rascal and drive to the train station.

Shirley's 42, by the way, and rides a Rascal. I swear it's the second half of Wall-E here. Fat people stuck in chairs? Check. Ugly, shapeless clothes? Check. Mindless, brainwashed masses? Check. And there aren't even any cool futuristic robots. I mean, c'mon, if I'm going to be stuck in Wall-E, I might as well get the robots.

Wish me luck! Not that you can, of course. You aren't alive. (How d'you like _that_, huh? Huh?)

Wow. I _do_ need to get out of here.

– Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Robin,

Oops! You almost left this behind. Good thing I'm on top of things, huh?

I really think that this diary will be a healthy outlet for you, you know. Diaries don't judge and they can't spill your secrets.

Speaking of secrets, you and I need to have a serious talk, missy. Yep. About that thing I mentioned at Punchy's wedding. I may have lost this battle, but I fully intend to win the war. Surrender, Robin, for escape from me is futile. (_Marshall writing now_: She's right. Escape _is_ futile.)

Best of luck finding a new apartment, sweetie!

Love,

Lily

P.S. You didn't like the Chicken Fried Steak?

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><p><em>AN: It's been scientifically proven that people who review stories are smarter, better looking, happier, and wealthier than non-reviewers. True story. Why don't you give it a try? (Disclaimer in fine print__: Aforementioned effects of reviewing may not be discernable until after you've repeated the action thousands of times.)_


	2. A Plethora of Postscripts

_Disclaimer: In between the last time I wrote a HIMYM fic and now, I obviously bought the rights to the series. That's why I'm still writing fanfiction for it._

_A/N: While writing _Robin's Diary in Captivity_, I briefly thought about making it into a multi-chaptered fic. Then two things happened: I got a few reviews asking me to continue the story and the next episode of HIMYM came out. So I will tentatively say that this fic is now a series of semi-connected episode tags. It will probably be a bit AU, if only because I have no idea what direction they plan on taking Robin's character arc._

__Tag to __The Broath__.__

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: A Plethora of Postscripts<strong>

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

OK, so maybe Lily isn't forcing me to write in you anymore. _Technically_. But waste not, want not, and all that crap.

_…Fine_, it's nice to have someone to talk to, alright? Things are still weird between me and Ted; Lily and Marshall are all wrapped up in their impending parenthood; and Barney…

This sucks.

I still haven't managed to find an apartment. Patrice means well, but she's a little needy. Also, she insists on doing my laundry, but she irons my trousers all wrong. It's driving me insane!

- Robin

P.S. Note to self: Buy a lock for this thing and find a good hiding spot for it. Diaries can keep secrets, but only so as long as they remain unread by certain snooping friends.

P.P.S. _Damn it_, Patrice/Lily/whoever is reading this, stop it! Stop reading right _now_ or something really nasty is going to happen to you. Karma's a total bitch and you'll deserve whatever you get if you keep reading.

P.P.P.S. Marshall has stopped reading, but that didn't stop those of you who don't believe in the supernatural, did it? So I'll give you a more concrete reason: if I ever find out that you read this (and believe you me, I have my ways), I'll shove a toonie so far up your ass, it'll block your windpipe.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I zoned out at work again today, this time in the middle of a meeting. Thank god I'm good at bullshitting, or it would have been even more awkward. I don't even remember what I said, but apparently it passed muster.

Apartment hunting will commence again tomorrow. I viewed a couple of places today, but all of them were _way_ out of my price range.

- Robin

P.S. Apparently Barney is dating a stripper.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

My mother called today. Apparently I'm wasting the remainder of my "best years" here. Good to know. Of course, coming from her, that's practically a declaration of concern and therefore love.

No luck finding an affordable apartment yet. And I forgot to file some important paperwork today, so I have to go in early tomorrow to take care of it. Guess it's microwaved Kraft Dinner for breakfast again tomorrow morning.

- Robin

P.S. I kind of miss Kevin. I mean, I didn't love him, not the way I should have, not the way that I lov– never mind. I miss Ted, too; he doesn't return my calls anymore. And, y'know, I miss other people. But I won't think about them right now or I'll start crying. And Sherbatsky men don't cry, even if they're really women.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

So remember when I mentioned that Barney was dating a stripper? A stripper who scammed him out of a ridiculous amount of cash? I tried to be non-judgmental when I met her, really I did, but I can't help it: she's a controlling _bitch_. I mean, she wouldn't even let Barney go to the bathroom. And I gagged each time he called her another cutesy pet name. "Bunnyface?" "Beauty swan?" "Sugar Lamb?" "Baby Bear?" "Puppy Pie?" Ewwww. Just… ewwww. No.

Why is he being so subservient, anyway? That isn't like the Barney I know. The Barney I _knew_. God, this is probably all my fault. I messed him up, didn't I? I messed Ted up too. And probably Kevin as well. It's like I ruin everything I touch.

Speaking of ruining everything I touch, the boss asked me to come into his office at five o'clock on Friday. You know what means, right? Fire o'clock. I won't even have a _job_ anymore. I hate my life.

And no, Patrice, I don't want your stupid cookies.

- Robin

P.S. Actually, the cookies are pretty good.

P.P.S. Apparently their sex is "mind-blowing." Whatever. It's not like I care.

P.P.P.S. They're planning to move in together, you know.

P.P.P.P.S. OK, it's decided, they aren't going to last. We have a plan in the works.

P.P.P.P.P.S. But Quinn-the-bitch has an amazing rent-controlled apartment that she's willing to lease if she moves in with Barney. It's almost as nice as that one I saw over on Central Park West. Life is _so_ unfair.

P.P. – oh, to hell with this. A lot of 'P's before the S. These cookies really _are_ delicious. I should thank Patrice. After I'm done eating them all, that is.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

The Quinntervention failed horribly. Apparently Barney really liked this girl, God knows why. But he _liked_ her and was happy with her and oh God, what did we do? He deserves to be happy, even if it _is_ with a bitch like Quinn. (Though I won't lie: I'm _glad_ they broke up.)

I swear, though, I almost had that apartment. I _would_ have had it if Ted hadn't been such a sneaky little bitch himself. There I was, oh-so-conveniently in the neighborhood, having just bought a bottle of wine, and I thought, 'Hey, I should share this with Quinn. Really get to know her, since she's so important to Barney.' Right?

So I dropped in on her and when I was getting my pocket knife out of my purse to open the wine, there were my credit scores! What a coincidence, eh? Or at least that's what I said before showing them to her. We were just starting to discuss her career when _Ted_ showed up. Damn it, Ted, I was trying to get more dirt on her! Why do you always have to interrupt?

- Robin

P.S. I still have a stomachache after all of those cookies. _Thanks_, Patrice.

P.P.S. Barney looked really upset. So did Quinn-the-bitch.

P.P.P.S. Where did she get the money to pay for an expensive trip to Hawaii, though? I mean, c'mon, if being a stripper pays that well, I'm in the wrong field.

P.P.P.P.S. My mother's right, I _am_ a failure. What am I going to do if I lose my job? I can't live with Patrice forever, even if she did offer, and I refuse to go crawling back home. …I suppose I could always strip. I mean, I'm good at it. Just ask – never mind.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

So the whole thing was a fake. Ha ha, very funny. (Although watching Marshall and Ted kiss _was_ pretty hilarious, I grant them that.)

Of course, now the two of them are moving in together after all. And, y'know, I'm glad for them. (I'm so freakin' glad for them that I'm narrowly restraining myself from smashing one of Patrice's plates.) I couldn't even at look Barney when they gave us the news. Not that I've been able to do that lately anyway, mind you.

At least the two of them aren't calling each other those sickeningly fluffy nicknames anymore.

I finally exploded at Ted today. He's a great guy, but he's so self-centered sometimes. He just doesn't get it, you know? I'm dealing with stuff too. And while I feel really guilty for not loving him the way he wants, that doesn't give him a free pass to be an ass.

Oh, and I've picked out my outfit for meeting with the boss tomorrow. If I'm going to get fired, I'm going to look damn _hot_ when it happens.

- Robin

P.S. Even though she isn't as much of a bitch as we thought, I still sort of want to tear Quinn's eyes out. Is that unhealthy? I have a bad feeling that a therapist would tell me that it is.

P.P.S. Marshall has nicknamed Quinn and Barney 'Quarney.' He never gave me and Barney a couple name.

P.P.P.S. Not that I care. It's a stupid name, it sounds like 'quark' or 'blarney' or something. Actually, couple names are stupid to begin with. _Couples_ are stupid. People are stupid. _You're_ stupid.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I entered my boss' office with dread this evening, only to discover that a miracle had occurred. I wasn't being fired, I was getting a promotion! So guess who's the new co-anchor of the evening news? That's right, you're looking at her.

Apparently the CEO of WWN saw me on the New Years' broadcast and liked me; he said I had "moxie." And apparently having moxie translates into making more money, which means that I can actually afford that awesome place I saw over on Central Park West.

Talked to Ted again today. He said that he's willing to go back to normal with me. Too bad it isn't working. It's weird, I haven't felt this uncomfortable around Ted in a long time. And it totally sucks; we can't even sit alone and have a beer together without it getting awkward. There's no way I'll ever be able to discuss certain things with him. I'd talk to Marshall, but he was rooting for Ted and me, so it'd be kind of awkward. And I'd talk to Lily, but she can't keep a secret to save her life. So… yeah, you're my best bet for emotional outpourings. Not that I'm doing that or anything.

Still, real job! Nice new apartment! Pay raise! I can actually afford to eat out again. Maybe I'll buy that pair of shoes I was eyeing last week…

- Robin

P.S. In a weird way, I'm going to miss living with Patrice. But only a little bit. She _does_ suck at ironing, after all.

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><p><em>If you read all the way down to here, imaginary!Robin will want to make good on her threat of choking you via toonie. If you review, though, I might be able to persuade her that physically harming you isn't in her best interests. ;-)<em>


	3. The Return of the Journal

_Disclaimer: HIMYM still isn't mine. If it was, this Barney/Quinn ridiculousness would_ not_ be happening._

_Tag to 7x20: "Trilogy Time."_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: The Return of the Journal<strong>

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Things are finally getting a bit less awkward between Nora and me at work. She doesn't know that I'm the girl Barney cheated on her with all those months ago, of course; that would be _really_ awkward. No, I think she just thought that I felt guilty for setting her up with a guy who cheated on her. Which I do, obviously. I just happen to feel a lot guiltier about being the girl that Barney cheated on her _with_. But I try not to think about that these days.

In other news, I love my new apartment. It's spacious and gets amazing light, and it has this cool little fireplace in the living room. It's great to finally have a place all to myself. Really, it is. I can decorate everything exactly to my tastes. There's no one leaving a mess around except for me, and no one I need to clean up my messes _for_ except for me. I can watch TV whenever I want, as loud as I want; I can choose whatever _channel_ I want. I can heat tuna up in the microwave without anyone complaining about the stench. Hell, I can walk around buck-naked if I so choose and not get ogled.

(If only the place didn't feel so… so _empty_ sometimes.)

The new job is going well so far. I think. I still can't stand Sandy Rivers, but I knew what he was going into this. But it's worth it, because I'm finally going to be reporting real news. I'll get to travel to cool places, interview interesting people, and talk about important things. Besides, Sandy Rivers can't stick around forever, right?

Part of me wishes that I'd never sworn that oath of non-interference to Barney. Sorry, that _broath_ of non-interference. Don't get me wrong, he and Quinn seem disgustingly happy together, but…

Lily and Marshall have been practicing what to do when she goes into labor. It's sort of sweet, but also really embarrassing when they pull a surprise labor-drill in public. At least they've got the public embarrassment aspect of parenting down. God, this poor kid is definitely going to need his cool Aunt Robin and Uncle Barney as mediating influences.

Also, the guys' Trilogy Night is coming up and Ted is going overboard with preparations. I like the movies well enough, but I swear if I hear one more Star Wars related joke, I will _not_ be responsible for my actions.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Apparently things aren't quite as cozy in Quarney-land as we'd thought. Quinn's so controlling that Barney's afraid to even fart in their apartment. What kind of a relationship is that, anyway? If you can't fart in front of someone, you definitely shouldn't be living together yet. Even _I_ know that.

Of course, Barney's acting like an ass too. I mean, the woman gave up all of her stuff to move in with him and he won't even swap out his coffee mugs for her?

As for that whole line about being the man and establishing his dominance… bleh. I mean, seriously, Barney? _Seriously_?

Lily said that the reason why Barney refuses to get rid of his coffee mugs is because deep down he doesn't think this relationship is going to last. (A selfish part of me hopes she's right. I mean, it doesn't sound like he's actually happy living with Quinn.)

Maybe Barney has the right idea about these things, though. Every time I've ever gotten rid of something for a relationship that I thought was going to last, I've regretted it. Whether it was getting rid of my favorite perfume in Grade Ten for Johnnie Sullivan or getting rid of my dogs for Ted, I've always ended up sans boyfriend _and_ whatever I gave up for his sake. I mean, I know "healthy" relationships are supposed to involve compromise – which means _both_ people have to give stuff up – but I think I'm with Barney on the whole self-preservation thing. Who needs a "healthy" relationship, anyway?

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I made Patrice a tray of Nanaimo Bars to take into work tomorrow as a thank you gift. I'd just set them in the refrigerator to chill when I got a phone call from Marshall, gushing about how freaking perfect Quarney are. Apparently at their stupid (but also kind of awesome) all-guy Trilogy Night, Barney told them that he wanted to still be with Quinn three years from now.

I don't remember what I told Marshall, but somehow I survived till I got off the phone with him. Then I went into full meltdown mode.

It… hurt, OK? I know it's my own fault and that I should want him to be happy with Quinn, but the whole thing it still hurts. He never said anything like that about me, about _us _when we were together. At that point in time, his version of talking about the future was mentioning banging random bimbos in three years. And yeah, we were hiding our relationship then, but he didn't even have to _think_ about it when the guys asked.

Life is… life just sucks, OK?

I'm going to go eat those Nanaimo Bars. I need them more than Patrice does, anyway.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Today at the bar, Barney bragged about his wild Storm Trooper sex with Quinn. Apparently _she_ doesn't think it's weird. Well _bully _for her.

I'm really looking forward to my next out-of-town assignment. Maybe this will be easier at a distance.

- Robin

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><p><em>AN: The real question is: do _you_ want some Nanaimo Bars? Review and you too can taste the (virtual) rainbow of possible Nanaimo flavors._


	4. If Wishes Were SkiDoos…

_Disclaimer: I regret to inform you that the author of this fanfiction does not own HIMYM._

__Tag to 7x21: "Now We're Even."__

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: If Wishes Were Ski-Doos…<strong>

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Got a phone call from my mother again today. You'd think she'd be calling to congratulate me on my promotion, right?

Well, you'd be wrong. She hadn't seen any of the new ads or watched the show at all. And when I told her that I was now a co-host at WWN, she just sniffed and said that she supposed it was better than nothing. Then she started dropping her usual hints about how much better everything would have been if only I'd stuck with the Robin Sparkles shtick.

Dad hasn't even bothered to call me; not that I expected him to. Really. I didn't. (OK, maybe I was _hoping_ just a little bit. I should have known better.)

And just to make the day that much better, I ran across Barney's latest bus ad when I went out to grab lunch. It showed him smiling and giving the camera a thumbs-up, the words "I'm dating a stripper" emblazoned across the rest of the poster. Oh, and there was a stripping pole with a spotlight on it too. Really tasteful stuff.

Lunch (my usual Reuben) was good, but not good enough to make up for having to see that ad.

You know how some days just suck? Well this was one of them.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Have I mentioned how much I love my new desk? Because I do. Love it, that is. It's miles larger than my old one _and_ it means that I no longer have to sit across from Nora. Having a corner of an office to myself makes me feel so… official. Important. _Respected_. It's a nice feeling, you know?

Of course, my co-host doesn't make me feel any of those things. I knew the kind of person Sandy was going into this, but his sexual harassment is getting kind of tiring. And he keeps shoving all of the crappy assignments off on me. I know I'm new and I have to pay my dues and all, but does he have to be such a jerk about it?

I didn't expect to get famous overnight or anything (OK, maybe I did, just a little) but it would be nice to get a little more acknowledgement around here. Not that I use external praise as a form of self-validation or anything. OK, so a therapist would probably tell me that my "screwed-up childhood" left me desperate for praise from any source, but what do therapists know, eh?

- Robin

P.S. Oh _shut up_, you! Stop psychoanalyzing me, Diary, or you'll be fuel for my new fireplace.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Lily and Marshall visited me at work today. I was really excited to show them around the building, so I might have bragged a little. Then the stupid security guard didn't recognize me (even though there was a poster with me on it _right_ next to him) and I realized I'd accidentally left my ID back at the apartment.

By the time I'd raced home and back with my ID, Lily and Marshall could only stay for a couple more minutes; I barely had time to show them anything. Still, it's hard to feel down in the dumps with those two around. Lily kept pointing out how my new desk was perfect for office sex (she's in _that _part of her pregnancy right now) and Marshall kept asking whether I'd covered a story on the sewer alligators or UFOs yet. Gotta love them. I just wish Ted and I were on speaking terms so he could come visit. And I wish B –

But as my dad always said, "RJ, son, if wishes were Ski-Doos, then Mounties wouldn't ride horses."

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Oh god, I'm still shaking. I almost died tonight. It all started when Sandy foisted the traffic report off on me. I'd just finished giving the report (really exciting stuff, too – back-ups on I-478 and I-95, who'd've guessed?) and was getting frustrated because even the stupid pilot who'd been sitting next to me the whole flight didn't know who I was when it happened: the pilot had a stroke.

Now I'd watched people fly helicopters before (see: my 14th birthday), so I had some notion of how to use the controls, but I'd never had lessons or anything. And let me tell you something: those things are damned hard to operate!

Somehow I managed to get us safely to the ground; it's all kind of a blur. Hold on – my phone is ringing. I'll write more later.

-– -–- –-

Wow. I've been up half the night fielding calls from family and friends; even my _dad_ called. So where did I leave off? Oh, that's right… I managed to land the helicopter. And now apparently I'm famous. Not only did everyone at work clap for me, they all also managed to get my name right. Let's just hope it lasts.

Going to bed now.

- Robin

P.S. Ted texted me to let me know that he was glad I was alright. It was… nice of him.

P.P.S. Dad still isn't proud of me. You'd think a death-defying stunt like this one would do the trick, but apparently not. I just don't get it. It isn't _fair_.

…I guess I haven't been trying hard enough. I'll make him proud again someday, though; I _have_ to.

P.P.P.S. I really miss Barney. He called, of course, but talking to him isn't the same as it used to be. Which makes sense of course; he's got Quinn now, as he's so eager to remind all of us at every opportunity. Still…

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Guess who met the mayor today? That's right, newly-famous reporter Robin Sherbatsky did. The local deli has renamed my favorite Reuben 'The Sherbatsky,' and I'm scheduled to go on Letterman in three days' time. Being famous is _awesome_.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I saw an interesting article in the paper today; apparently the Royal Canadian Mint is releasing a collectible glow-in-the-dark quarter. And get this: it features Queen Elizabeth II on one side and a dinosaur – the _Pachyrhinosaurus lakustai__, _to be precise – on the other. Even cooler is the fact that you can see the dinosaur's scaly hide in the light and its skeleton in the dark. Barney'll love it. I should call –

Oh. Right. I keep doing this, you know. It's stupid, but I keep almost dialing him to tell him stuff. And I keep expecting to get crazy e-mails from him the way I used to. It's stupid that I should miss it so much. I mean, I'm _famous_ now. Shouldn't that change things?

- Robin

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><p><em>AN: Wait, wait, don't go yet! There's a pretty little blue button at the bottom of this page that's begging you to press it and leave a review. You wouldn't want to disappoint that button, would you?_


	5. The Failure of Avoidance

_Disclaimer: Wish though I may,/ wish though I might,/ I don't own this show/ now or any night._

_A/N: Unfortunately, Robin barely made an appearance in 7x22 ("Good Crazy"), forcing me to guess what she was doing. I'm sure that the finale will contain flashbacks, but until that point…_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: The Failure of Avoidance<strong>

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Being on Letterman was pretty cool. And everyone at the office has been really nice to me lately, even Sandy. Although to be perfectly frank, Sandy's version of _nice_ creeps me out; it's super skeevy.

In other news, Marshall and Lily have finally announced the date for their baby shower. I'm still not sure what to get them and I can't say that I've been looking forward to browsing through baby stores to find said gift. Baby stores are like pastel-colored traps of soul-sucking doom and – even worse – most of them are located in _malls._

Meh, I've still got some time before the shower. I just… won't think about it for now. Because we all know that avoidance is a healthy tactic, right?

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Lily and I hung out at a local diner today. Apparently she has to escape from Marshall's obsessive parenting preparations every now and then or she's going to go insane. And after hearing her stories, I can't say I blame her! Not only has Marshall been reading book after book on babies and watching documentaries on everything from breast-feeding to colic, he's also taken to swaddling Lily and has been practicing changing diapers on a watermelon. (Out of curiosity… what's going to happen when the watermelon goes bad? I hope he hasn't bonded with it too much.)

To make everything just that much worse, he's been quoting 'helpful' facts and tips to Lily nearly 24/7. According to Lily, he's even been muttering the facts in his _sleep_. Between Marshall's crazy behavior and Lily's overly-descriptive stories of the physical joys of pregnancy (_not_), it's almost enough to make me glad that I can't–

I think I'm going to get Marshall and Lily their present online. At least that way I won't be surrounded by insane and happily expectant parents in addition to infant paraphernalia.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I just remembered… didn't Lily create a register for the shower at We B Babies back in December? Going online to check now.

-– -–- –-

Sooo… apparently We B Babies is stuck in the Dark Ages, since you can't view the stupid registration online. Sometimes I could _swear_ that someone up there is conspiring against me.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Went to We B Babies today and bought Lily and Marshall a stroller, as per their request on the register. The less said about my time there, the better.

-– -–- –-

OK, fine, you want to hear about it? You _really_ want to hear about it? I'll _tell_ you, then. It sucked, OK? It really, really sucked.

From the second I entered the store, all of these _stupid_ memories kept flooding back: Barney's joyful reaction to hearing that I was pregnant; Barney smiling so… so _hopefully_… and holding up a little baby dress; the finality of Dr. Sonya's proclamation about me never being able to have kids. The way that Barney and I started to drift apart after that.

What? I'm not… I'm not _crying_. Don't be stupid. Those wet spots you see on your paper are just… excess bits of famousness leaking out of my eyes, that's all.

Seeing that adorable little Maple Leaf onesie on my way to the checkout sure as hell didn't help matters, though. And the lady at the checkout remembered me from the last time I'd been in the store, and wanted to know how my 'boyfriend' was and whether we were planning on having kids at any point in the near future. (How did she manage to remember us, anyway? That was _months_ ago. She must have seen hundreds of people since then.)

Anyway, I stammered, bought the stupid stroller, and high-tailed my way out of the place.

_There_. Are you happy now?

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Maybe it makes me a horrible person to miss my friends' baby shower, but I just couldn't go there with everything still so fresh in my mind. I didn't think that I could manage to keep pretending that everything was fine while watching Barney and Quinn being nauseating together. And the nonstop baby-talk from everyone would just be the proverbial maple syrup on the flapjacks. So I dropped the stroller off at Marshall and Lily's apartment early this morning and proceeded to spend the rest of the day holed up in my apartment.

Sure, it might not be the healthiest method of coping, but it's the only one that I have left.

(I just wish it was working better.)

- Robin

* * *

><p><em>Want to know the best way to help soothe almost-season-finale-time-stress? (Hint: it involves reviewing.) Note: This tactic also helps with exam and work-related stress. Give it a try! (Disclaimer: Results may vary.)<br>_


	6. Keep Calm and Don't Faint

_Disclaimer: HIMYM is mine. HIMYM is mine. HIMYM is… fine, you caught me. The only way I could own HIMYM would be through the application of ridiculous amounts of cash (which I don't possess) or by stealing it (which is illegal). So… I don't own HIMYM. Yet. *cue evil villain laughter*_

_A/N: I'd been writing these entries under the assumption that Robin would have to face up to her feelings by the end of this season, so the finale threw me for a bit of a loop when it came to this fic. I debated taking 'Dear Diary' in an AU direction for a while, but ultimately decided to try to keep it as close to canon as possible. You see, I have this niggling suspicion that I'm going to need a way to make sense of Robin's actions next season as well…_

_In any case, my apologies for taking so long to get this chapter up. Enjoy, and this fic will pick back up in the autumn!_

_Tag to 7x23 & 7x24: "The Magician's Code." Now revised, and contains minor spoilers for 8x01–8x03. [Note: the theory that Robin's boyfriend found her because she was on the news (due to her helicopter stunt) and Letterman comes from the incredible Manda600.]  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: Keep Calm and Don't Faint (Or, How to Regress Back Into Denial Without Even Realizing It)<strong>

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

You'll never guess who I ran into this afternoon. Remember that really hot guy I met back when Ted was buying those _hideous_ red cowboy boots? Yep; it was him. His name is Nick, and he saw me on the news when I landed that helicopter. Then he watched my interview on Letterman and heard that I was single and that I liked eating at Weissermann's Deli on my lunch breaks. So get this: he's been eating lunch at Weissermann's every day for the past week hoping to run into me.

…which is a little creepy. But mainly sweet. And hella flattering.

After I'd straightened him out on the whole 'engagement' thing, he told me that he'd never been able to forget me. I played it cool, but I might have intimated that I hadn't really been able to forget him either. And, well, long story short, we have a date for this Saturday.

If I were one to believe in fate – which I'm totally not – I'd call this it. As it is, though… well, it's a hell of a coincidence. And I dunno… maybe it's some kind of sign from the universe or whatever. I mean, what are the odds that just when I'm starting to think that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life that I run into Nick again? I mean, I'm no Ted, but this feels significant somehow. Like something's trying to tell me that letting Barney move on with Quinn is the right thing to do. Maybe.

So, uh, yeah. Date with Nick this Saturday! (Maybe I'll get to see those incredible abs a little bit closer up, if you know what I mean. It's been _months_ and Mama needs her some sugar.)

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

So the date was… well, Nick meant well. We went to a cinema where we watched the cheesiest romantic comedy I've _ever_ seen. (And considering my Robin Sparkles days, that's saying something.) It was painful. And Nick might have cried a little. But, uh, that means he's sensitive, right? Sensitive is good.

Besides, that gave me the perfect excuse to cheer him up a little. And yes, his abs really _are_ as amazing to lick as I thought they'd be.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

In preparation for Lily going into labor, I've put together a pregnancy bag full of all the stuff that might be needed: you know, sugar cubes, a camera, rubber gloves, a pair of Lily's pajamas and socks, forceps… normal things. It's currently sitting right by my door in case of emergency.

In other news, I've finally been covering more interesting stories at work. I guess that helicopter was good for _something_. (Besides bringing Nick back into my life, I mean.) I've refused to cover any stories out of the area until the baby's born, though. Marshall and Lily need me here… who else is going to stay calm when Lily goes into labor, after all? Ted? I don't _think_ so.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Went on another date with Nick this week. Did you know that he plays hockey?! _So_ hot. By the end of the night, I'd felt up a lot more than just his abs, if you know what I mean. Heh. And may I say that the rest of him is every bit as well-built as those abs? Yeah.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Thank god it's the weekend. At the moment, my plans consist of watching (that is to say, mocking) cheesy TV specials while doing my laundry. Exciting, right? But I need a little down time and my laundry desperately needs doing. I'm currently wearing a strange romper that was a gift from Katie on my last birthday; normally I wouldn't be caught dead in it, but it's the only clean thing I've got left. Besides, this way I can be honest when she asks if I've worn it. Hang on a second – my phone's ringing.

Oh my god… Lily's in labor! Gotta grab the pregnancy bag and run.

-– -–- –-

Wow. What a night. I'm both exhausted and oddly awake; must be the adrenaline.

Lily couldn't go to the hospital until her contractions were four minutes apart and Marshall – the _idiot_ – was stuck in Atlantic City of all places. What was he thinking? Then again, Barney was with him, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

Anyway, Lily was (understandably) freaking out, so Ted and I did our best to help. I tried to soothe Lily by reminding her of my expertise with delivering infants (primarily of the equine persuasion), but I think I only made things worse. Of course, Ted freaked Lily out far more than I did. He had created the most disgusting email birth announcement imaginable. Not only did he reference Star Wars multiple times and insert himself into it (although, c'mon, it's _Ted_; he's a bigger girl about this sort of thing than Lily, so we should have expected it), he compared Lily's dilating cervix to the unfurling of a flower's petals. Not the kind of thing you want to show to a heavily pregnant woman whose husband is missing! I thought Lily was going to kill him after she found out he'd sent it to everyone we know. (And I can't say I'd have blamed her.)

We ended up telling Lily all sorts of stories to distract her, among which were such classics as _I Wonder Where That Door Goes?_, _The_ _Halloween We Decided to Go as the Breakfast Club But Failed to Coordinate Our Costumes_, and _The Worst Cab Ride Ever_. Ted tried to humiliate me by recounting a couple of other tales that will go unmentioned, but I got him back in the end.

By the time we got to the hospital, it was too late for Lily to have an epidural, so we told her yet more stories. And then… the baby started to crown. I thought I was ready for it, but I passed out the second I saw that tiny head coming out of Lily's hoo-ha.

It's humiliating, really. I mean, I'm no weakling that faints at the sight of blood. I've survived in the wilds of Canada with only a knife; I've landed a helicopter in Manhattan traffic; I've delivered twelve perfectly healthy babies – and one of them was even human! I'd have expected Ted or Barney or even Marshall to faint at the sight of Lily giving birth, but not me. Never me.

When I came to, I was out in the waiting room with Ted. My only consolation is that he looked even more nauseous than I felt. We proceeded to made up as friends – though not before he scared the crap out of me with an ill-timed 'I love you' joke. I'm just glad that we're finally back to normal. I do love Ted, even if it's not the way he wanted me to, and I can't imagine my life without him in it. (Especially not now that I'm an unofficial aunt.)

Ted mentioned that Mr. Aldrin was in the delivery room with Lily and I nearly barged right back in to save her. Lily's told me horror stories about her dad and hospitals, and the last thing she needed was more stress right then. Fortunately for me, Lily got her dad hauled out of the hospital by security – I saw him being dragged out by two burly guards – so I didn't have to go back into the room while she was giving birth. I don't know how I'd bear the shame of fainting twice.

Anyway, shortly after that, Marshall and Barney came racing in. While Marshall holed himself up in the delivery room, Barney filled us in on the excitement of their journey to the hospital. I'm not entirely sure I believe his 'I am Spartacus' Senior Citizen Bus story, though. Then again, weirder things have happened.

After what felt like simultaneously years and seconds, Marshall came out to tell us that the baby was born and we all rushed in to the delivery room. And as I gazed at Lily, Marshall, and their kid, it finally hit me: Marshall and Lily are _parents_ now. They have a _baby_. A tiny, healthy, perfect miniature human being that they've named Marvin Wait-for-It Erikson. Seeing that baby… it was just… awe-inspiring. _Marshall_ and _Lily_ made that thing. Marshall and Lily _made_ it. Him. Whatever; you know what I mean. And sitting there, surrounded by all of our friends, I it hit home that relationship drama doesn't matter. What matters is all of us staying together. By clinging to the dream of me and Barney, I've been being selfish. Barney is happy with Quinn now. I've got to let him go.

And I think I'm at peace with that decision, you know? Really.

In the grand scheme of things, romance isn't at the top of the list for me and it never has been. Neither is parenthood. And yeah, maybe I felt a bit of an ache at seeing what I'll never have, but I think I'm finally OK with it. It was a bittersweet moment but the sweet outweighed the bitter. I'm happy for Marshall and Lily and I'm happy for Barney and Quinn. (Well… mostly. I will be, though. (Assuming they don't break up the way Barney fears.)) Besides, I have Nick now. And Nick is _awesome_.

I can do this. When I wake up tomorrow morning, I'm going to be a new person; a better person. I can do this.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Guess who's been chosen as the official photographer for Marshall and Lily's birth announcement card?

Ted's still pouting over not being chosen, but _I_ say that he's just lucky Lily never punched him for his god-awful e-mail announcement. I mean, Lily's _mother-in-law_ received that thing.

I didn't say anything at the hospital and I won't say anything now, but as much as I adore little Marvin, Marshall and Lily have really saddled that kid with a terrible name. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the sentimental value of it, but Marvin's going to get picked on something dreadful at school. Oh well; I'll teach Marvin to fight before he goes off to kindergarten. At least that way he won't be bullied too badly.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

My attempts at taking a good picture of Marshall, Lily, and Marvin haven't yielded anything decent yet. Still, as my father used to say, "There is no 'try'. There is only 'do' or 'do not', R.J., and we only have room in this family for 'doers'." I'll get a good picture of them eventually. Here goes again…

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Victoria was just in McLaren's. In a wedding dress. Talking to Ted. _Definitely_ a 10 on Marshall and Lily's new Emergency Scale.

I called Ted out on his behavior re: the women he pursues back at the hospital (and at M&L's apartment), but I have to admit that I never actually expected him to follow my advice. Good on him, though; he deserves to find happiness.

I know Marshall and Lily are against Ted and Victoria getting back together – they seem to think that Ted will ruin Victoria's life. But if Victoria is still thinking about Ted, then she shouldn't have agreed to marry someone else in the first place; going forward with the wedding would be the real mistake, in my opinion. But enough about that. It's entirely possible that nothing will come of this. Still, if nothing else, this meeting should give Ted some form of closure. Victoria's his One That Got Away and if he doesn't pursue her now, he'll always wonder what could have been. That kind of thinking can haunt a person.

- Robin

P.S. Turns out Quinn didn't break up with Barney, after all. They're off to Hawaii for a romantic get-away. Good on them.

P.P.S. Mrs. Madsen-at-the-bar's friend still thinks Ted is gay. Poor Ted.

P.P.P.S. Marshall is still disturbingly interested in women's clothing. Eggshell or cream, indeed…

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Barney and Quinn are engaged.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

When Barney and I were alone for a few minutes yesterday, he joked that it was our last chance to run away together. Part of me wishes that I'd said something. But that would have been selfish; it would have been _stupid_. If Barney cares enough about Quinn to propose to her, he couldn't have been serious about the two of us running off together. (Even if I _did_ think I saw something in his eyes for a split-second… (no, that was just a trick of the light (wishful thinking) on my part.)) It was… sweet… of him to make sure that I was OK with him and Quinn, though.

For all that I had my suspicions about Quinn, she's been good for Barney. And God knows that Barney deserves to be happy. So I wasn't lying when I told Barney that I was happy for him. He deserves this and I'm not going to be play the dog in the manger. For Gretsky's sake, if I can't be happy for my best friend, who _can_ I be happy for?

So I'm happy for him; for _them_. Really.

- Robin

* * *

><p><em>Reviews make Robin's subconscious remind her that feelings for a person don't go away just because you decide to ignore them…<em>


	7. Starting The Summer of Love

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately (for me) I still don't own HIMYM.  
><em>

_A/N: Between writer's block and the insanity of real life, this chapter took me forever to write – and despite multiple revisions, it still feels off somehow. Sorry! Also, just an FYI: I_n an attempt to maintain timeline continuity with canon_, I've added a few new sections to Ch. 6 that discuss Nick.  
><em>

_Tag to 8x01: "Farhampton," as well as the beginning of the Summer of Love that was referenced (but not really shown) in 8x02: "The Pre-Nup."  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Starting "The Summer of Love"<br>**

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

I… I don't have any words. I can't believe that Barney saved all that stuff from when we were together. I just…

It really hurt when I thought he'd gotten rid of everything from our time as a couple, you know? (It would have been like… I dunno, like erasing the past. Like saying that we never meant anything. That _I_ never meant anything (to him). I mean, we're still friends! Have a little respect.) But even before he had said that he'd destroyed everything from our relationship, I never would have imagined that he'd kept so _much_.

We aren't just talking about a couple of photographs and carnival prizes in that box, after all. He saved _everything_. The flash cards that he used to help me prepare for my citizenship test; a Canadian flag; the stub from an airplane ticket to Toronto; that stupid Robin 101 notebook; a hand-written record of one of our phone conversations; Robin Sparkles paraphernalia; tapes from my time as a reporter on Metro News One; that ticket we were issued the first time we got caught having sex in a public area (and the tie that I'd tied him up with before we got caught); even – bizarrely enough – a copy of his hospital records from that one time he got hit by a bus.

…It just brought back a lot of memories, OK? Particularly those photos. (We look so… so _happy_ in them.) I…

I can't do this. Not right now, anyway.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I forgot to mention it last time, but Victoria ran off with Ted a few hours before her wedding to her German fiancé (Close? Claus? Something like that). How do I know this? Ted called Barney and gave him a brief summary of events. Then he challenged/begged Barney to seduce the groom-to-be's sister over the phone so he could sneak into Victoria's dressing room and drop off her 'I'm leaving you at the altar' note. Needless to say, Barney accepted and successfully completed said challenge. It was kinda awkward, though, considering that Quinn was sitting next to him for part of that conversation. I mean, if I were Quinn, I wouldn't be OK with Barney seducing another woman. (And I'm sorry, but doing it over the phone _totally_ counts.) Whatever. Obviously what they have works for them. After all, Barney didn't mind Nick doing a shot off of Quinn's belly later that evening. I guess they really trust each other.

Which reminds me: I finally told everyone about Nick. They've all been really supportive. …OK, so Barney might have grumbled that Nick has chicken legs (which, fine, maybe he does), but that's Barney for you. Marshall, on the other hand, enthusiastically voiced his approval of Nick's abs. (Which, of course, is _Marshall_ for you.)

In other news, Lily and Marshall desperately need to find themselves a babysitter so they can get some sleep. Regardless of what they say, the two of them are zombies right now; when I talk to them, they look at me like I'm speaking another language. Add in the fact that they can't remember anything that's happened outside of the past ten seconds and they're a disaster waiting to happen. Here's hoping that Marvin survives whatever that disaster may be.

- Robin

P.S. Huh. It just occurred to me: Am I still supposed to be one of Quinn's bridesmaids? I mean, Quinn may be OK about my past with Barney now that she's met Nick, but that doesn't necessarily mean that she still wants me in her wedding. I hope she doesn't, at any rate. I'll do it if I have to, but talk about an uncomfortable situation! Guess I'll have to double-check with her.

P.P.S. Lily has this ridiculous theory that I feel weird about Barney's engagement because – get this – I supposedly still have feelings for him. All I have to say to that is this: _Pfff_. As _if._ As I told her, I have Nick now. Clearly, she's delirious from lack of sleep. Am I right or am I right?

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Sooo… apparently I'm still a bridesmaid. Whoopee for me.

Barney and Quinn remain disgustingly publically affectionate. I mean, seriously: if they can't control themselves, they should just get a room. Preferably somewhere far away so the rest of us don't have to see or hear them going at it. I'm only able to ignore them by thinking about Nick's abs. _God_, those abs…

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Nick and I went on a triple-date last weekend with Ted and Victoria and Barney and Quinn. Allow me to state that it is an experience I _never_ want to repeat. Ever. Between Ted (loudly) correcting every historical error, Barney and Quinn (loudly) making out, and Ted and Nick (loudly) sobbing when the little girl died onscreen, I think I'm scarred for life.

If the popcorn hadn't been so good, I probably would have bolted.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Nick's been really… clingy… lately. He wants to hang out all the time (excuse me, I _do_ have a life outside of him!) and keeps trying to call me pet names. Also, he likes to cuddle after sex.

On the other hand, he's ridiculously hot. And it's not like the sex is bad or anything. Besides, he's really sweet. I mean, he made me breakfast in bed yesterday. (And it was actually _good.)_

I'll give it a little time; maybe Nick is just one of those guys who takes a while to settle into a relationship. And in the meantime, I get regular sex and food out of the deal. It's a win-win situation.

- Robin

* * *

><p><em>*clears throat* <em>

_"Hello, readers. Look at your keyboard. Now back to the review button. Now back at your keyboard. Now back to the review button. Sadly, you have not yet reviewed. But if you type something in that box and click on the review button, you will have reviewed. Look down. Back up. Where are you? You're on a boat with the person of your choice. What's in your hand? Now back at me. I have it. It's an oyster with two passes to a special HIMYM screening on set. Look again. The passes are now made of pure platinum. Anything is possible when you read and review a story on FF.N. I'm on a horse."  
><em>

_[Disclaimer: I'm not saying that reviewing will give you everything you've ever wanted, but I am insinuating it. Also, I don't own the Old Spice commercial format.]_


	8. Entering the Autumn of Breakups

_Disclaimer: Despite my best efforts, I still don't own HIMYM.  
><em>

_A/N: Some of this chapter will probably be Jossed by 8x05, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Also, to those of you who live in areas that have been affected by Hurricane Sandy: I hope that you and your families are OK.  
><em>

_Tag to 8x02: "The Pre-Nup".  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Entering the Autumn of Break-Ups<br>**

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Work is going well. Ever since the Helicopter Incident, I've been getting better stories. Nothing really big yet, but anything is a step up from doing the traffic report, y'know? And at least WWN doesn't make its reporters interview cats that can eat with chopsticks and little old ladies with clown figurine collections.

Lily and Marshall are still settling into life with a kid – particularly that part where they don't get to sleep through the night. The last time I saw them, Lily had dark circles under her eyes and Marshall seemed on the verge of tears. They seriously need to find a babysitter. When I told them that, though, Lily all but bit off my head. Apparently the _last_ thing she wants to do right now is conduct interviews. Can't say I blame her.

Nick and I are still going strong. Yep. So what if he's a little bit… girly? Where it counts, he's _all_ man.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

The last time I saw Victoria (before Ted got back together with her) was at the Architect's Ball of Awkwardness last year; you know, when I accidentally reminded her that I'd stolen Ted away from her all those years ago? Yeah. Which has made hanging out with her just a _little_ bit awkward.

So I finally cornered her this evening when we were at McLaren's; Ted had just gone to the bathroom, and no one else had arrived yet. I promised her that she had nothing to worry about from me this time around. For one thing, I don't love Ted like that anymore. For another, I'm happy with Nick. I've gotta say, though, her response was kinda weird. She told me that she knew that she didn't need to worry about me and _Ted_ (emphasis hers.) Then she gave me this… this _knowing_ look. Like she knew something that I didn't. Or like we were sharing some sort of secret. Weird. Then she asked me what the story was with Barney and Quinn. Needless to say, I was thrilled when Ted came back and interrupted the conversation.

Regardless, I think Victoria and I finally have things straightened out. It's still a little awkward being around her, but at least now I know that she doesn't hate my guts.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Huh. Nick and I went on a double-date with Ted and Victoria and it didn't completely suck balls. Thank god for baseball games, huh? Granted, Ted bored everyone stiff by discussing the architectural history of the stadium, but Nick and Victoria actually know their sports stuff. And Ted knows the best place to get nachos. Add in the fact that my team won, and it wasn't a bad afternoon at all.

- Robin

P.S. Also, baseball stadium bathroom stall sex = awesome, if somewhat unhygienic.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Nick and I just had our first argument. But he was totally overreacting! The TV was on while we were having sex and I happened to glance at it. I mean, that's a normal reaction, right?

OK, so maybe it didn't play out _quite_ like that. But what's so wrong about getting turned on by watching myself do the news? When I see myself on TV, I feel strong and confident and sexy. (Also, let's face it: I'm _hot_. I mean, I seriously doubt I'm the only person who gets off watching me on WWN.)

Whatever. Nick's making a mountain out of a molehill, but I'll humor him for the moment.

- Robin

P.S. I'm still going to DVR my newscasts, though. No sense letting all those perfectly good winks go to waste, if you know what I mean. After all, I don't spend _every_ night with Nick…

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Wedding planning is from Satan. Seriously. I am _so_ never getting married. And if I do, it'll never be a big fancy church wedding that requires hours upon hours of comparing color swatches and calligraphy samples.

So why am I discussing color swatches and calligraphy samples on varying types of cardstock, you ask? Excellent question. I'm a f***ing bridesmaid to Quinn Garvey, that's why. (Huh. It just hit me: her name sounds a lot like a reversal of Harley Quinn. …God, this explains so _much_.) Oh, and Barney's still insisting that he wants to ride a be-tuxed bear down the aisle, by the way.

Anyway, if I get asked _one_ more time which shade of pink I prefer, I think I'm going to scream. Or vomit. Maybe both. Seriously, Quinn should have chosen Marshall as a bridesmaid instead of me. He actually _likes_ this crap.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Wow. Barney is an _ass_. I mean, I always knew that had certain ass-like qualities, but this tops whatever I thought I knew. Plus, he's being this way to Quinn: the woman he loves so much that he's _marrying_ her. The woman he's planning on spending the rest of his life with.

He wants Quinn to sign a pre-nup. That sounds reasonable enough, right? In fact, it's a downright _sensible_ decision when you stop and remember that Quinn cheated him out of a lot of money not too long ago. But the notion of a pre-nup is where his suspicious good sense ends. That pre-nup is possibly the most offensive document I have _ever_ heard of. Ever. Because it isn't just full of ridiculous demands for if they get divorced. Oh no… it's also full of ridiculous rules for their marriage. And, oddly enough, they all benefit _Barney_.

Some of the terms that he's included in this pre-nup are:

1. If they ever get divorced, Barney gets weekly visitation rights to Quinn's lady parts. Which he has _named_.

2. If they ever get divorced, not only does Barney get to keep everything he came into the marriage with, but he also gets to keep everything that they purchased together as a couple.

3. She has to remove all of her body hair below the neck weekly.

4. There will be weekly weigh-ins for her, and she has to pay him $2,000 every time she gains a pound.

5. She has to give him a wake-up lap dance every morning.

6. She has to have girl-on-girl pillow fights in skimpy underwear – preferably ending in "innocent, accidental exploration that leads to passionate kissing and fondling" – in front of him on a weekly basis.

7. She and "wives 2 – 8" must make a weekly chore wheel, in which they split (and then perform) all household duties.

8. She has to have sex with him at least three times a day, in whatever position he prefers.

9. She has to give him a BJ at least twice a day.

10. She has to invent 12 new sexual positions every year, at least 10 of which involve her doing all or most of the work.

11. She has to let him tape all of their sexual encounters.

12. Every 5 years, she either has to get her breasts enhanced or submit to 50,000 'honka-honka's, whichever comes first.

13. She can't talk about clothes (unless they are suits or underwear) in front of him for more than twenty seconds.

14. Her parents can only stay at their place if they arrive in urns.

15. Any pets have to be pre-approved by him and must wear miniature suits at all times.

16. Her belongings can only take up a certain number of square feet, which is subject to change whenever he sees fit.

I mean, seriously, what the hell is he _thinking_? No woman will put up with that kind of shit. And… I dunno. Don't get me wrong, I know Barney can be an ass, but I… I always thought he was better than this. I mean, he wasn't like this when we were tog–

Moving on.

Anyway, all the guys told Barney that he was being a crazy, misogynistic idiot. Or at least, that's what Nick told me that they told him. But here's the thing: as we were settling into bed last night, Nick was all "there's nothing I'd want to change about _you_." But. _But_. He _paused_. And then he went into this little speech about all the things that he wants to change about me. Jerk.

Apparently his main beef with me is the whole TV thing. It's happened exactly _six_ times in the six months that we've been together, and he didn't even _notice_ until the sixth time. I mean, where does he get off telling me what I can and can't do in bed? (Actually… that could be kind of hot. Note to self: talk to Nick about a little role-playing.) Regardless, he's being ridiculous and I intend to tell him so.

And as for Barney… well, clearly someone has to have a little talk with him about what's acceptable in a relationship.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Hah! That'll show him. Right, so where to begin…

I guess it all started at the bar yesterday afternoon. Turns out I wasn't the only one whose night was ruined by Barney's pre-nup. Both Ted and Marshall decided to use Barney's antics as an excuse to "renegotiate" the terms of their respective relationships with Victoria and Lily.

Get this: Victoria's ex-fiancé (whose name is _Klaus_, so my guess was close) has been living with her and Ted for a few weeks. Yeah. I know. So how did this living arrangement come about? Apparently it was all Ted's idea. Oh, Ted. He does love to play the hero. But naturally now he's having hero's remorse and wants to kick Klaus out of "their" apartment. Jerk. I mean, I get where he's coming from… living with your girlfriend's ex has to be ridiculously awkward. Add in the fact that the guy sounds like a certified nutjob (walks around naked, has biting pet ferrets, eavesdrops on conversations), and I don't blame Ted for wanting to get rid of him. Still, I can't feel too sorry for Ted, if only because he brought this on himself. And Victoria has a point; Ted shouldn't be magnanimous only when it suits him. Once he's given his word, he should suck it up and stick to it.

Marshall's complaint was kind of valid, though. Lily claims that when she and Marshall first got home from the hospital, Marshall tossed Marvin so high into the air that his head nearly scraped their ceiling. Frankly, I think she's exaggerating. Lily is the overprotective sort, and she was probably in hyper-protective mode having given birth so recently. Besides, a little rough-housing never hurt anyone. I mean, both Marshall and I roughhoused around as kids and we turned out fine.

Anyway, we were all complaining about what douches guys are when Quinn had a brilliant idea. (And trust me, I don't give that kind of compliment lightly.) She pointed out that we could write an equally ridiculous pre-nup of our own for her and Barney. So we did… with the assistance of some truly delicious mixed drinks. And I've gotta say, doing that was probably the most fun I've ever had with Victoria or Quinn. And Lily… well, some of the ideas that she came up with frightened even me. Cock shock rings? Ouch. And people say _I'm_ freaky.

Then we went to GNB. Quinn went in first, all doe-eyed and "of course a pre-nup is a good idea, sweetie" to get Barney to let down his guard. And then the cavalry marched in. (I have to admit, dumping that ginormous pre-nup on the table in front of Barney was oddly satisfying. Asshole.) God, his face was hilarious. Of course, he texted the guys for back-up and soon the whole thing degenerated into a shouting match.

But Barney's weird colleague gave us all this lecture about love (after repeatedly hitting on Lily) and we discussed our problems like adults. Sort of. (Some of us more than others.) Turns out all I needed to do to get Nick on board with me watching myself during sex was to explain to him that it turns me on. Huh. Anyway, Nick and I had a _lot_ of fun last night.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Barney and Quinn broke up last night.

- Robin

* * *

><p><em>*ding-dong*<br>_

_"Trick or treat! Reviews are the best candy an author can get. So if you have a moment to spare, please feed me."  
><em>


	9. Intimacy Issues

_Disclaimer: HIMYM still is not mine. And frankly, it probably never will be.  
><em>

_Tag to 8x03: "Nannies."_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Intimacy Issues<br>**

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Barney hasn't talked much about the break-up yet. All he's said is that the two of them realized that they didn't trust each other enough to go through with the marriage. (I don't get it, though. I mean, _I_ could have told them that. Still, Barney really loved Quinn; maybe he let that blind him?)

Anyway, I'm worried about him. Oh, Barney's putting on a good face, there's no doubt of that, but… it feels off somehow. Fake. Like he's trying too hard to be that guy I met seven years ago. No one else seems to notice anything wrong, though. Maybe I'm just overreacting. Still, I'm going to keep an eye on him for a while. Just in case.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, things with Nick are going swimmingly. Just freakin' _swi_– OK, fine, they aren't. Sometimes I get the sense that Nick thinks we're a little bit more serious than we actually are. Case in point? He signed for a package at my apartment earlier today. I mean, who _does_ that? (Besides family members, spouses, and roommates, that is. Shut _up.)_ And I don't think it's my commitment-phobic side saying that it's a _little_ too soon for that kind of thing. Whatever.

Meanwhile, Lily and Marshall have finally started their hunt for a babysitter (sorry – _nanny_; Marshall was very clear about that) for Marvin. Hopefully they'll find one soon, because Lily's maternity leave time is almost up.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Work is going well; I'm covering natural disasters now! …Well, sort of. My top story a couple of days ago was "Naked Man Runs Back into Inferno to Rescue Potato Salad." On the bright side, my coverage of that event got a lot of hits on YouTube. Apparently people never get tired of watching other people do really stupid things. (That's probably why Metro News One has been able to stay in business for so long.)

Patrice has trying to schedule a "girls night out" with me for a while now, but I've just been so _busy_. I mean, between work, my hot new boyfriend, and Barney-sitting, I don't have the time right now. I always feel a little bad saying no to Patrice, though… it's kinda like kicking a puppy.

And speaking of said new hot boyfriend, Nick's even better at doing the laundry than Patrice was. Not only does he iron my trousers perfectly, but he's also really good at hemming the cuffs. Add in the fact that he cooks us dinner every night, and I am one lucky woman. Yep. I am _lucky_.

- Robin

P.S. Every time I try to bring up the subject of Quinn, Barney brushes it aside like it's nothing. I'm worried he's headed for a breakdown if he doesn't deal with how he's really feeling. But if he doesn't want to talk about it, what can I do? …I hate feeling helpless.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I'm seriously worried about Barney. Instead of giving himself time to mourn his breakup with Quinn, he's been coming up with assorted wild schemes for his "Bangtoberfest." What's more, he's spent seven _grand_ on Bangtoberfest merchandise. You _can't_ tell me that's healthy. (I'm now the proud owner of a red Bangtoberfest baseball cap, by the way.)

Meanwhile, Ted has been extremely vocal about how happy he is with Victoria. And that would fine if he didn't then use that "happiness" to continually put my relationship with Nick down. So… I may have let my competitive streak run away with me tonight. When Lily was bemoaning their lack of a nanny, I kind of volunteered Nick and me as babysitters; you know, to prove how well we're clicking as a couple and all that shit. And then it was too late to take the offer back without looking bad. So as much as I adore little Marvin, I really hope Lily doesn't take me up on that offer anytime soon.

In other news, Lily's dad has moved back in with her, Marshall, and Marvin. Apparently he was the "Naked Man" in that story a while back, can you believe it? (Sadly, I can.) Oh, and Lily and Marshall _still_ haven't found a nanny. Given that Lily goes back to work on Monday, this is kind of a problem… especially since Lily refuses to even consider using Mickey. Don't get me wrong, Mickey isn't the ideal dad, but at least he cares. At least he _tries._ That should count for something, you know?

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Wow. Nick and I just ran into his parents at a coffee shop. His _parents_. Nick introduced us and we ended up chatting for a while. They're… nice people, I guess. But it is _way_ too early in this relationship for me to be meeting the family, let alone accepting invitations for get-togethers with them. What, didn't I mention? They invited us to spend _New Year's_ with them. In _Hawaii_. I mean, what do you say to that? Talk about awkward. So… I might have accepted. And promptly hyperventilated as soon as I was back in my apartment. What was I _thinking_? I'm not ready to travel out of town with Nick and I'm _definitely_ not ready to spend the holidays with his parents! …Maybe I'll be ready by December, though. And if not, Aunt Maureen can always come down with a mysterious disease that requires me to nurse her back to health. Yeah. I've got this.

- Robin

P.S. Also, I have to admit that it doesn't hurt to have some ammunition on hand for when Ted starts up his couple-bragging again.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Marshall and Lily finally found a nanny that they like. According to Lily, Mrs. Buckminster (that's her name) smells "like lavender, fresh linen, organic homemade chocolate chip cookies, and pure comfort." Marshall agreed, adding that Mrs. Buckminster has a "pillowy bosom" and a voice that sounds "like a soothing lullaby." Unfortunately for my seriously infatuated friends, Mrs. Buckminster charges a mint. And so the great nanny search continues.

Barney's throwing himself into Bangtoberfest with gusto, but he's having a hard (Heh. OK, I'm occasionally immature – so sue me) time coming up with new schemes, which is really unlike him. He's already recycled the Policeman Down Under and the Judge "You're On Her" schemes several times. He keeps swinging back and forth between mania and depression – more than usual, that is – and I'm concerned. But I don't know what to _do_ other than let him know that I'm, y'know, here for him and stuff. I suck at this kind of emotional crap, but I'm willing to try for his sake. I mean, he's my best friend and he needs someone right now. Unfortunately for him, he's stuck with me, but I'll do my best.

- Robin

P.S. One cup of coffee while talking to Nick's parents: $4. One hypothetical plane ticket to Hawaii: $514.23. The expression on Ted's face? Priceless.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Huh. This afternoon, I went miniature golfing with Ted and Victoria. It was originally supposed to be another double-date, but Nick got called into work unexpectedly. (I have to admit, I'm still kinda confused as to how Nick can get called into work on his days off. I mean, it's not like he's a doctor or anything important; he's a chef on a super cheesy cooking show. Whatever.) Anyway, I was waiting at Ted's place for Victoria (who was running late) when it happened. Victoria returned. And she is a _slob_. Now I'm not judging her – I'm not exactly known for my housekeeping skills, after all – but watching Ted struggle not to show his disapproval was probably the funniest thing I've seen in ages.

Anyway, miniature golf was fun. There was even a resurrection of the whole major/minor joke when Ted accidentally hit his golf ball into the sandpit and called it a "minor mistake." Oh, Ted. Later, we all bought shakes – Ted and I introduced Victoria to the joy that is the Shake Shack – and walked around for a while. All in all, it was a nice way to spend a Saturday.

- Robin

P.S. Barney's been suspiciously quiet lately. I don't know if that's a good sign or not.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Lily just called me. Ninety-two interviews later, they've _finally_ found their nanny: Julie Jorgenson of St. Cloud, Minnesota. Small world, eh? Lily's not all that thrilled about the St. Cloud reminiscing that will undoubtedly occur between Julie and Marshall, but she says that it's worth the price of a reliable, personable, _affordable_ nanny. They're going to call Julie later this evening to confirm her placement, but Lily seems to think that it's a done deal. Thank god _that's_ over with.

-–- -–- -–-

Well _shit_. Guess who nanny-blocked Lily and Marshall?

That's right: Barney. Apparently this is all part of his latest scheme. (Which explains why he's been so quiet lately.) He heard Lily mention the heynannynanny website, and advertised himself on there as a single dad looking for a nanny. The con is this: He lures in nannies (like Julie Jorgenson), feeds them a sob story, tests their "qualifications," and then tells them that he can't hire them because he finds them attractive and it would be unethical. And it _works_. Lily says that he called it as easy as "taking candy from an imaginary baby."

Regardless of what Barney is going through, stealing Lily and Marshall's new nanny the night before she's supposed to go back to work is pretty low. Poor Lily.

- Robin

P.S. Ted finally admitted that things aren't entirely peachy with Victoria. _Thank_ you. And so I returned the favor by venting a little about Nick. Whom I still _adore_ by the way.

P.P.S. Ted is still defending the Giants. _Please_.

P.P.P.S. OK, it's now official: I've finally found someone girlier than Ted. When I killed a spider in the bathroom half an hour ago, Nick _sobbed_. Then he gave me this little speech about respecting the life of every living creature. (I don't think I'm going to mention my hunting license to him.) Oh, and he buried the freaking spider, using an empty paperclip box as a coffin. There's a fine line between being sensitive and being pathetic, and I think Nick may have just crossed it.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Oh my god. Barney was ambushed by all those nannies he duped. They beat him up, jammed a pacifier somewhere that he _still_ refuses to disclose, and then tossed him in a dumpster full of poopy diapers. But even worse than that is the fact that he's acting like he has a split-personality disorder or something. He even admits that he's out of control right now; frankly, I think it's a cry for help. But what can I do? He looks _miserable_, but he still doesn't want to discuss Quinn. She must have really hurt him.

After the rest of the gang left McLaren's earlier tonight, Barney and I chatted and drank together for an hour or so. But eventually I had to leave; Nick was expecting me at his place for dinner. I offered to split a cab back with him, but he said that he wanted to stay at the bar a bit longer. But he was staring into his tumbler and his smile as he said it was so – so _fake_. God, I hate this. I f***ing _hate_ not being able to _do_ something.

- Robin

P.S. After some thought, I've decided that Nick really isn't so bad. He's a sweet guy who treats me well. I mean, he cooks _and_ cleans. Where else am I going to find someone who'll do that for free? And he really seems to like me. I can't just break up with a guy like that.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Huh. I just stopped by Marshall and Lily's place to try to talk to them, only to discover – from Mickey, no less – that they'd hired Mickey as their nanny. He said that they were both taking a nap and not to be disturbed. I can't help but wonder what changed Lily's mind about hiring him. For that matter, why didn't she say anything about it to me? She used to tell us everything, right down to when she or Marshall made an interesting-shaped deuce.

Whatever. They're busy. I get it. Now that they're parents their priorities have changed; they don't have time to hang out with us as often or to chitchat. Really, I get it.

…it still sucks.

- Robin

* * *

><p><em>AN: Since I can't PM those of you who have reviewed anonymously, this is my shout-out to you: thank you! I truly appreciate all of your comments.  
><em>

_And now for the chapterly review request – this time in limerick form! (And may I note that it's_ hard_ to write a clean limerick after writing in Robin's POV?_)

*clears throat*_  
><em>

_"In this world, there are authors of fic_

_Who sometime need a good kick_

_Their only revenues_

_Are their readers' reviews_

_Please review? That will do the trick."_


	10. Abandonment Issues

_Disclaimer: I still don't own HIMYM.  
><em>

__A/N: I am so, so sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up! I won't go into detail, but I have been extremely busy_ and_ dealing with assorted family issues. But hey, at least I managed to update two days before the month-mark passed, right? _  
><em>

_Tag to 8x04: "Who Wants to Be a Godparent?"  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Abandonment Issues<strong>

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

I found out at lunch today that there was a double-homicide on the block where Marshall and Lily live. So this evening, I gave their apartment a ring. I mean, I was pretty sure that they were OK – they would have appeared in the news story if they weren't – but it never hurts to double-check, right? And I figured a possible life-or-death incident qualified as an 8 or higher on their scale. But get this: Mickey was the one who answered the phone. That's right; he's screening all of their home-coming calls and determines which are important enough to pass on to his "employers." Jerk. And apparently this call wasn't important enough since he could answer the question himself. (Answer: They're fine.) And I suppose Mickey is technically right; I didn't _need_ to speak to Marshall or Lily. Only… it would have been nice, you know? Reassuring.

Whatever.

- Robin

P.S. Oh, and guess what? Nick has a motorcycle. A _motorcycle_. Why hasn't he mentioned this before? I mean, seriously, what's _not_ to like? A leather-clad guy pressed against you, the wind in your hair, the steady thrum of a powerful engine between your thighs… Well, it's one hell of a turn on. Anyway, he's promised to take me for a ride on it next week. I can hardly wait.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Patrice has been getting clingier at work lately. She's kind of scaring me, to be frank. On my way in to work, she cornered me in the elevator and hugged me so tightly that I thought I was going to pass out. Her high-pitched squealing didn't help either. …I think I'm going to try to avoid her for a while. Wish me luck.

In other news, I got an honest-to-god invitation in the mail today from Marshall and Lily. They're going to ditch Marvin with Mickey for the night and join us at McLaren's on Friday. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty excited. I mean, when was the last time we actually saw Lily and Marshall together anywhere outside of their apartment? Four months ago? Six? It's been a ridiculously long time, anyway.

I haven't seen Barney conducting any wild Bangtoberfest-y schemes at McLaren's lately. Which is kinda weird. Maybe he's decided to make McLaren's a Bangtoberfest-free zone? I dunno. I think he's having a tough time getting over Quinn. Not that he'd say as much to any of us, of course, but… when he thinks no one's watching, his smile slips straight off his face and his eyes – his eyes look so _sad_. I just don't know how to help him, y'know? It sucks.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Well _that_ was a major let-down. Remember how I was looking forward to riding Nick's motorcycle? How I said that that bike's motor would get _my_ motor going? Yeah. Nick's motorcycle turned out to be an ethanol-powered _scooter_. And to think I got out my black leather catsuit for _that_. Psssh.

Still, at least there's Friday night at McLaren's to look forward to.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Marshall and Lily ditched us after only being in McLaren's for two minutes. And when we pointed out that this was the first time we'd gotten to hang out with them in ages, Lily just bushed us off with a condescending "I promise we'll hang out soon." Yeah right. Don't get me wrong, I understand that they're busy. I understand that Marvin has to be their first priority. But… it feels like they're abandoning us. Like they don't care enough to even _try_ to stay friends. It's… it's like Jessica all over again, OK? And it sucks.

- Robin

P.S. Apparently Victoria's dad is pressuring Ted into paying for the wedding between Klaus and Victoria that never happened. And, like the pushover he is, Ted is actually _considering_ it.

P.P.S. Barney has a new booty-phone ringtone. It's actually kind of hilarious.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Apparently Lily and Marshall almost got run over by a car after they left the bar last night, reminding them of their mortality. So now they're trying to decide who should be Marvin's guardian in the event of their premature deaths. Fun times.

Ted, of course, is insisting that as Marshall and Lily's "best friend of nearly 20 years" and "the most responsible adult of the group," he should be the one to get guardianship if that ever happens. Now don't get me wrong, Ted's a great guy in his own way. And someday he'll be a good dad. But he isn't ready to be a dad right now; he'd suffocate that poor kid. So I stepped up and volunteered myself as a potential guardian. I guess Barney must have had the same thought, 'cause he offered too – in his own inimitable way.

Anyway, just to show Marshall and Lily that I'm serious about this guardianship thing, I think I'm going to buy Marvin another gift. You know, so they can see that I know what's appropriate for a kid and all that jazz. But I'm going to go to Walmart or Target this time 'round. (As long as I have breath in my body, I will never darken the door of We B Babies again.)

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I bought Marvin this adorable, plus-sized teddy bear. The kid's gonna _love_ that thing. I can't wait to see his (and Lily and Marshall's faces).

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I can't believe it! (Or maybe I can. I don't know which is worse.) Ted saw what I'd got Marvin and decided to buy the exact same bear for Marvin – only in the next size up. What a jerk! Well I'm not going to let him get away with this… I'm going back to the store, and this time I'm going to buy the biggest bear that they have in stock. See if you can top _that_, Mr. Mosby!

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Well, I've finally figured out what Barney's been up to in his spare time. He's been writing a book about child-rearing called _The Bro Code for Parents_. Additionally, he's created a bunch of songs to sing to baby Marvin, among which are "Bro, Bro, Bro Your Boat," "Bro MacDonald," "The Boobs on the Bus," "Stripper in the Straw," "Bro, Bro, Boobies," "Little Bro Blue," and "Pop Goes the Cherry." …I don't know whether to be impressed, disturbed, amused, or depressed. I think I'll settle on 'all of the above.'

- Robin

P.S. "Bro, Bro, Bro Your Boat" is stuck in my head now, though. I have to admit, it's kinda catchy.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Wow. This really _is_ like Jessica all over again. What? Those aren't _tear-stains_. Don't be ridiculous. I just – it just – I'll –

Well, it's been an… interesting… night. Marshall invited us all up to their apartment where he'd set things up for a game of his own creation: "Who Wants to Be a Godparent?" (Seriously, I think he and Lily have been cooped up in the apartment for _way_ too long. It's starting to affect their brains.)

(Also, I don't understand how they can find enough time to create hand-written cards and over-the-top games but can't find enough time to hang out with us at McLaren's every once in a while. Whatever.)

Anyway, he'd made up a big wheel with sections like "Our Demise," "The Birds and the Bees," "Discipline," "Tooth Fairy, Santa, and Bigfoot," "Bedtime Story," "Potty Training," "First Word," "First Heartbreak," and "Learning to Drive" as well as a "Daily Double."

He spun the wheel and then asked all of us "contestants" to answer a question from whatever category the wheel landed on. And the answers that Barney and Ted gave were alternately hilarious and disturbing. Mainly hilarious, though. For example: Barney's idea of punishing Marvin: take away his "$1,900 alligator skin belt" and replace it with a "disgusting reversible black-and-brown" one. Ted's idea of punishing Marvin: let him watch all the TV he wants and then take him out for ice cream with sprinkles. (A disciplinarian he is not.)

Only… I have to admit, my answers weren't much better. …I panicked, OK? And it's not like I have any experience with, y'know, normal parents and stuff. So whenever Marshall asked a question, I just… answered on autopilot, that's all. The way a slightly more toned-down version of my dad would have.

Yeah. I _know_.

I could hear myself, but it was like I couldn't stop talking.

It's probably a good thing I can't have kids. I'd screw them up even worse than my parents screwed _me_ up, and that's saying something. Some – some mystical being or the universe or whatever probably realized that and decided to nip the problem in the bud. I should be grateful.

And… god, the whole night has brought back a lot of memories, OK? I can't even…

(I can still smell the burning rubber of my first pair of high heels, combined with the scents of oil and charred hunks of hair. And I can still taste that smoke, acrid and thick.)

I talked about some of this with Kevin, you know, back when I was in thera–

_God_, I'm so messed up.

(Maybe that's why Marshall and Lily don't have time for me anymore? 'Cause they're afraid that I'll, I dunno, infect Marvin or something?)

Anyway, towards the end of the game, Barney called Lily and Marshall out on neglecting us, and they proceeded to dump all of us as friends. I know that it probably means that they're good parents and shit, but I kind of hate Marshall and Lily right now. You'd think all those years of friendship would be worth _something_, but apparently blood trumps other bonds every time. Whatever.

And you know what, if having a kid means that that kid becomes the only important thing in your life, I guess it's a _really _good thing that I won't ever have kids. I could never do that.

I'm writing all of this in the McLaren's bathroom right now, because I needed to get it out, but Ted and Barney are waiting for me at our booth, so I should probably go join them before one (or both) of them comes looking for me.

I just have to say this, though: Barney's been having a really rough time lately; couldn't Marshall and Lily have waited just a _little_ bit longer before dumping us? Give him some time to heal? _Jerks_.

OK, wrapping things up for now.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Huh.

Last night, Marshall and Lily showed up at the bar shortly after I had returned to the booth and _apologized_. Apparently Barney's outburst made them realize that they _had_ been shitty friends lately and that "parenthood and friendships don't have to be mutually exclusive," so they revoked the 8 or Higher rule. We chatted and gossiped and closed down McLaren's with them. It was almost like old times again. It was… nice.

(Note of interest: Ted is actually planning on paying for Victoria and Klaus' wedding-that-wasn't. According to him, he and her dad have worked out a payment plan with "a very reasonable interest rate." Sucker.

Also? Barney slept with a 6. He _never_ sleeps with anything lower than an 8 unless he's doing it for "charity" around the holiday season. This _isn't_ normal.)

Then we all crashed in their apartment, only to be woken by Marvin's screaming at 5:13 AM. Ted and I took care of the kid and sent Lily and Marshall back to bed. Barney escaped out the door, lucky bastard. Marvin is pretty adorable, but not when he's crying at the top of his lungs and reeking of his own soupy poop. Ugh.

Anyway, I'm headed back to bed. I'm starting to understand why Marshall and Lily have been acting like zombies.

- Robin

P.S. I forgot to mention this last night, but Ted has created a puppet friend/teaching tool that he's named _Professor Infosaurus_. (I know, right?) It's the funniest thing I've seen in a while. And that rap he came up with to explain sex? Well, let's just say that it _really_ makes me pity Ted's future kids. It was both lame _and_ disturbing – a true accomplishment.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

It's stupid, but I keep finding myself watching everything Lily and Marshall say or do for signs that they're about to change their minds again. But let's face it, if they could dump us once, they could totally do it again. So I'll keep confiding in them about stupid little things like Nick's not-motorcycle, but I have no intention of discussing anything big with either of them for a long, _long_ time. (Not that I have anything big to discuss, anyway, of course.)

And speaking of big things… Barney created a 'Broller' with a built-in camera that allows him to zoom in on the breasts of women who bend over the stroller to look at the imaginary baby within. I know I should find this offensive and demeaning and blah blah blah, but I'm just relieved that he seems to be getting back to normal.

- Robin

P.S. Patrice almost cornered me at work today. Fortunately, I'd already mapped out escape routes throughout the entire building, and was able to slip away. Good thing I'm a practiced laser tag strategist, huh?

* * *

><p><em>[Warning: Ridiculously long and cracky review request section ahead.]<br>_

_Imaginary!Barney: "Give me an 'R'!"_

_Imaginary!Ted: "Barney, this is stupid."  
><em>

__Imaginary!Barney:_ "Theodore Evelyn Mosby! Cheerleading is a time-honored profession and I will not have you denigrating it. Without cheerleaders, what would the average bro have to focus on during sports games? The actual_ game?_ Pfff. Show a little respect."  
><em>

__Imaginary!Ted:_ "I respect cheerleaders! ...I just don't respect myself when I act like a cheerleader."  
><em>

__Imaginary!Barney: "Are you saying that it's OK for women to be cheerleaders but not men? Ted, I'm shocked at your sexism. __Shocked_, I tell you!"  
><em>

____Imaginary!Ted:__ "That's not what I _–"_  
><em>_

___Imaginary!Barney:__ "Besides, you lost a bet. Pay up."  
><em>

_____Imaginary!Ted:____ "Fine."  
><em>

____Imaginary!Barney:___ "Excellent! Now: Give me an 'R'!"  
><em>

______Imaginary!Ted:_____ "R."  
><em>

_____Imaginary!Barney:____ "With enthusiasm, Ted!"  
><em>

_______Imaginary!Ted:_____ "__R__."__

_______Imaginary!Barney:_____ "Ted..."  
><em>_

_______Imaginary!Ted:_____ "_R!"_

________Imaginary!Barney:_______ "_Thank_ you. Give me an 'e'!"_

________Imaginary!Ted:_____ "E_!"__

______Imaginary!Barney:___ "Give me a 'V'!"___

___________Imaginary!Ted:_____ "V_!"_____

________________Imaginary!Barney:___ "Give me an 'I'!"_____________

________________________Imaginary!Ted:_____ "I_!"__________________

___________Imaginary!Barney:___ "Give me an 'E'!"________

________________Imaginary!Ted:_____ "E_!"__________

_____________Imaginary!Barney:___ "Give me a 'W'!"__________

__________________________Imaginary!Ted:_____ "W_!"____________________

_________________________________Imaginary!Barney:___ "What does it spell?!"______________________________

________________________________________________________Imaginary!Ted:_____ "Review_!"__________________________________________________


	11. Canines and Concerns

_Disc__laimer: I don't own HIMYM. If someone reading this wants to give it to me, however, I'll happily accept it._**  
><strong>

_A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! I'm trying to catch this fic up, but unfortunately Real!Life doesn't understand the importance of fanfiction.  
><em>

__Tag to 8x05: "The Autumn of Break-Ups."__

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Canines and Concerns<strong>

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Nick and I shared another double date with Ted and Victoria this weekend. This time, we all went to a post-Modernist exhibit at The Met. Ted, Victoria, and Nick were all in raptures over how "deep" the art was and how it "spoke" to them and shit. All I saw was a bunch of colored paint splatters and random geometric shapes tossed haphazardly onto canvasses. Seriously, my _dogs_ could have made those things. (I kinda wish Barney had been along; we could have had fun mocking everything together.)

To be fair, there was _one_ cool painting. Ted pointed it out to me, actually. It was done in different shades of blue and actually looked a bit like that French horn he stole for me all those years ago. I think Victoria liked the painting too, 'cause she spent a long time looking at it.

Still, one decent painting doesn't justify the $25 I had to pay for admission. Next time, _I'm_ choosing the double-date activity.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Wow. I just finished watching a full episode of Nick's cable access chef show for the first time – I figured I ought to be supportive, seeing as he's up for a local media award, you know?

And, well, I'm sorry, but seriously? "Nick: The Bad Boy Chef?" _Please_. The guy cries when I swat flies. And the show is incredibly lame. For the life of me, I can't understand why the live audience on the show goes wild over Nick's attempts at catch-phrases. Whatever. I can do this; I can be supportive.

In other news, Patrice has actually managed to get _clingier_ at work. And Sandy – the traitor – has been giving her information as to my whereabouts, which doesn't exactly help. (I think he's hoping to see a little girl-on-girl action between the two of us, which just… no. Ew.)

- Robin

P.S. Barney's weird behavior has been escalating. I've been trying to figure out how to help him, but I keep coming up blank. There has to be _something_ I can do, though, right?

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

So I'm a little freaked out. Nick's started hinting about us taking our relationship to the next level. Why is that necessary? I mean, why can't we just enjoy things the way they are right now? Take things one day at a time?

I am _not_ ready for any serious conversations about "where this relationship is going." Honestly, the only place I want this relationship to go at the moment is the bedroom, but Nick would probably blubber if I said that. So… I'm gonna put that conversation off for as long as possible. And hey, lingerie always works as a mutually beneficial distraction.

- Robin

P.S. Oh my god. Nick was choking a few minutes ago, so I had to pull out my admittedly rusty Heimlich Maneuver skills. Turns out he'd eaten a candle that I'd left on the kitchen counter. Granted, the thing _did_ look freakishly like a real apple, but still…you'd think he would have stopped after the first bite.

Note to self: don't keep non-obviously non-edible objects in the kitchen anymore, or chef boyfriend will eat (and then choke on) them.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

OK, I'm seriously worried about Barney. His smile has had this – this edge of – _desperation_ lately, and his eyes… I dunno.

Barney's breakup with Quinn must have hit him harder than I'd thought, because he seems so – so _lonely _these days. And Barney deserves more than that. He deserves to be _happy_.

…I think I'm going to invite him over to share dinner with Nick and me some time this week. That'll get him out of his apartment and (hopefully) out of his head. (And a bonus? It should keep Nick from making any major romantic moves.)

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Barney's got a new "wing-man": a dog named Brover. He's pretty cute, too – the dog, that is. But not cute enough to justify an inter-species make-out session between him and Barney! It's a pretty clear-cut cry for help, if you ask me. And I don't get why no one else seems to notice or care that something's seriously wrong with him. (Barney, that is. I can't speak for Brover.)

Then again, Marshall and Lily are still totally wrapped up in Marvin, and Ted's totally wrapped up in Victoria. But I'm wrapped up in Nick (heh), and _I_ still manage to keep an eye out for our fellow friend's mental and emotional wellbeing. You'd think they'd be able to do the same. Whatever. If I'm all Barney has, I'll just have to do an extra kickass job of being his friend and wing-woman, that's all.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Huh. Talk about a crazy night!

…for a few minutes there, I thought Barney was trying to commit suicide. Which is so _not_ happening on my watch. Because a world without Barney? …well, it's impossible, that's all.

Barney's been going through a rough patch lately, there's been no doubt of that, but I hadn't realized quite _how_ rough a patch until recently. I mean, you know things are bad when pretending that I didn't realize my aunt was a lesbian barely elicited a twitch of the lips from him. Hopefully the hot chick I helped him hook up with tonight will help cheer him up a little.

Still, there's no substitute for the unconditional affection of a dog. It sucks that Barney wasn't able to keep Brover. Maybe I should take him on a trip to my aunts' farm to visit my dogs? Or would that only make things worse, reminding him of what he doesn't have?

…I _hate_ this crap.

- Robin

P.S. Ted called me at 9 PM tonight to meet him at the bar, claiming it was "urgent." Turns out his "urgent" task was to discuss pitching a Mosby Boys book series. Seriously, the dude needs to learn the meaning of the word "urgent." Also, a Mosby Boys book series? Terrible idea.

P.P.S. I need to work on my tendency to babble under pressure. Because when Brover's owner thought Barney and I were a couple, it was like I just couldn't shut_ up_. It was like I had a – a – foot-in-mouth disease or something. _So_ awkward. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Apparently Ted and Victoria broke up. Which kinda really sucks. Ted seems oddly at peace with the whole thing, though, which is weird. Normally he'd be in his whole "but I thought she was The One" pit of despair and crying about how he's "going to die alone." Whatever. Still weird, though.

Barney… seems to be doing a little better. I guess that hookup was just what he needed. Still, I'm going to keep an extra-close eye on him.

…maybe broing out this weekend would help him some more? It's an idea, at any rate.

- Robin

* * *

><p><em><em>*clears throat* <em>_

_"Dear every single HIMYM reader on the entire internet: Hello, HIMYM readers. Did you think I'd leave a message for every single reader on the whole internet and forget you, my most favorite HIMYM readers? Hahahahaha–_ Never. _I was saving you for last because I have something very special for you. Here: it's my heart; my strongest muscle (outside of my typing fingers). After all you and I have been through together, it's the least that I can do. But don't worry; I'll be fine without it. After all, simply engaging in fandom activities provides me with the necessary FEELS to regrow my heart. Also, biologically speaking, I don't need a heart; my body is powered by the hope of the world, sugar, and reviews from dear, dear readers such as yourselves. Happy (belated) Holidays!"_

_[Additional Disclaimer: I don't own the Old Spice MANta-Claus commercial format.]_


	12. Cookies and Ice Cream Splits

_Disclaimer: In a truly shocking turn of events, I still don't own HIMYM._

_A/N: *dodges rotten tomatoes* There are no words for how sorry I am for the length of the wait on this update. It's been what, about four months? I'm not sure why this fic is giving me so much trouble. But have no fear; it_ will_ be finished one day. In the meantime, if any of you are still reading, thanks for hanging in there with me. And my thanks to those of you who have been reviewing; you are the proverbial wind beneath my wings. ;-)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Chocolate Chip Cookies and Ice Cream Splits<strong>

* * *

><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Work's pretty much the same old, same old. I've been simultaneously reporting on the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy and trying to ignore Sandy Rivers' terrible innuendo-laden puns involving said hurricane. Talking about the hurricane, though… well, it's brought back some memories. Whatever. What's past is past.

Meanwhile, Patrice has gotten even clingier. She's kind of scaring me now. Like genuinely scaring me. Today I ran into her in the elevator and she was wearing an outfit identical to mine from the turquoise-and-blue wrap dress right down to the black heels. I mean, imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but this has gone past flattery and straight to the creepy zone. Think about it: How could she know I'd be wearing that dress today? Oh God, is she spying on me? Does she have a camera in my apartment or something? (Hmm, maybe I should talk to Barney about that. He'd know how to detect one if it's there.)

Don't worry, though. It got worse. She nudged me with her elbow, which knocked my mug of scalding-hot coffee all over me. Then she apologized again and again and kept molesting me under the guise of wiping the stains off my dress with paper napkins. And considering I was talking to Joe from marketing at the time, it was extra embarrassing. Needless to say, I all but ran off the elevator the second we reached our floor. My dress is ruined but I don't really care. I wouldn't want to wear it again anyway.

In other news, last night was another night of marathon sex. Nick and I are _rocking_ this relationship thing! (Or at least, _something's_ rocking, if you know what I mean. Heh.) We might have hit a bump in the road a while back, but the sex is hotter than ever now. And I've gotta say this much for Nick: he takes directions in bed _really_ well. A bit over-literally at times, but really well nonetheless.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I don't believe it. I don't freakin' believe it!

OK, so I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but Nick is on this "basketball" team in the Little Ivies Professionals Over Thirty Who Work in Midtown League. Marshall's their captain and they're called The Force Majeures; y'know, like the law thingy? (Marshall explained it to us all. I stopped listening after the first five minutes.)

At any rate, you'd think that with Marshall as their captain they'd be somewhat decent, right? I mean, the guy knows how to coach: Push your team until they drop to the floor crying and then tell them that they're being babies and that only winners get breaks. That's how I was taught to play hockey, and our team? Won championships all the time. Unfortunately, however, Marshall's team still _sucks_. As in, Nick, my _boyfriend_, is their best player. Which is a little pathetic to be honest. I mean, he'd never even_ played_ basketball until Marshall put him on the team. Whatever.

So during one of their practices, Nick managed to pull his groin and now his doctor says he can't have sex. Talk about bogus! Basketball isn't even really a sport; something only counts as a sport if there's blood and at least one guy gets a tooth knocked out per game. Am I right or am I right? Anyway, Nick somehow managed to pull his groin playing on Marshall's stupid little basketball team of amateurs and as of today it's been one full day since we've had sex. One. Whole. Day.

I don't think you properly understand the deprivation I'm going through right now. Of course you don't, you're a diary! But Nick and I – we have a very _physical_ connection. If we aren't having sex at least three times a day, something's seriously wrong. Also… I don't really know how to communicate with him without sex. Sex is like the social lubricant of our relationship.

You know what, this is stupid. I can survive a few days without sex. And Nick and I can totally communicate without the aid of sex. I mean, we're both intelligent adults, right?

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

OK, I may have been overstating it a bit with the whole 'intelligent adults' thing. I don't know how I didn't notice this before, but… how do I put this? Nick isn't… exactly an intellectual. Which is fine! I mean, God knows I don't want to date another Ted. But, uh, he _really_ isn't an intellectual. At all.

Remember the candle incident? Yeah. Maybe that should have been a clue. I feel kind of bad for saying this, but I'm pretty sure that Nick is… well, _stupid_.

But he's such a _nice_ guy. (And he's still ridiculously hot.) And someone doesn't need to be smart to be worth relationship-worthy. I mean, so what if he's not the brightest bulb in the box? He's got other good qualities. Like those abs for example…

Maybe I just need to make an effort to talk to him on his level. To, I dunno, find out his interests and stuff. Come to think of it, I'm not sure whether we've ever discussed what he likes to do (outside of his show, that is)… If we did, I think I tuned him out. Maybe I should change that.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

Plan scrapped. We have absolutely no common interests beyond hockey, sex, and food. But that's totally enough to build a relationship around, right?

…only without the sex, it kind of isn't.

And I have to admit, I sort of miss getting intellectual stimulation. And sex. It's been three days here, you know. _Three. Days._

Of course, compared to Marshall and Lily and their Sahara Desert dry spell, that's nothing. (Lily's horniness has manifested in her loud fantasies about me, Nick, and a slutty Danish exchange student named Nadia. Which is sort of flattering and a little bit creepy.)

When I mentioned my suspicion that Nick might be kind of dumb, suddenly everyone chimed in. Apparently they've realized this _all along_. And no one ever told me!

Barney brought up a good point, though. Much though I hate to admit it, it isn't fair for me to date a brainless he-bimbo just for sex. Both of us deserve better than that. Nick deserves to find an equally vapid she-bimbo to bump boots with and I deserve to have all of my needs met, mental included. …But that means that I have to break up with him. I _hate_ breaking up with guys. And Nick's like a puppy. He'll just look at me with those sad, confused eyes and I'll feel like the world's worst person.

Still, I can do this. I can. One step at a time, Robin.

- Robin

P.S. Apparently Ted's method of coping with his breakup with Victoria was to create a basketball team called the T-Squares. Yeah. And guess who's their captain? _Yeah_. They've spent their practice time measuring the gym and talking about how its "aesthetic has too much heavy wood." And according to Coach Ted, "you can win a hundred games without ever touching a ball" if you just "think like an architect." …Those guys are gonna get _pounded_ in their first game. (God, I wish _I_ was getting pounded right now…)

P.P.S. Also, Marshall has informed me that I need to break up with Nick "gently" so I don't "throw off his game." _Thanks_, Marshall. No pressure or anything.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

So… I tried to break up with Nick. Really I did! But those abs of his. God! I got distracted, alright? I'm only human. And those rippling pectorals of his have _super_human powers.

Barney's acting kind of weird about it though. Like, extra weird. Almost manic. He said that he knew I'd cave. Am I really that predictable? But we haven't even reached the worst part yet. One sec, let me get some air so I can yell properly:

_Are you freakin' kidding me?_ _Robin and Patrice's BFF FUN DAY?_ God, if Patrice sees that thing she'll latch onto me so tightly that an octopus won't even come _close_ to comparing.

I get what Barney's trying do. Really, I do. And I even appreciate it on a certain level. But this is just cruel and unusual punishment. And now I only have a couple of hours to break up with Nick or that invitation is going to go out…

- Robin

P.S. Patrice force-fed me a chocolate-chip cookie in the elevator today while I was talking on the phone. Yeah. How is it that she doesn't understand that I _don't want her frickin' cookies?!_ (Even if they _are_ delicious.) Someone needs to send her to one of those sensitivity seminars. No means no.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

OK, I have a plan. I'm going to take Nick to that new desert place: Splitsville. According to Barney, it's _the_ place for break-ups. I can do this.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

God, what a night. I just – wow. OK, first things first: I broke up with Nick. _Fine_, Barney broke up with Nick for me. But I tried to break up with him! Just… he didn't get it. Because he's overly-literal and underly-intelligent. And then he got some bad news and I couldn't bear to hurt him even more. But then it turned out that that 'bad news' was good news… he could have sex again! He just couldn't play for The Force Majeures this season. And really, who cares about _that_? (Well, other than Marshall that is.) I _tried_ to break up with him, sex availability notwithstanding, but he started sucking my fingers and nipping at my neck and – well, it's probably a good thing that Barney showed up when he did.

He said that we loved each other. That he was in love with me. Barney, that is. That there had been times he'd wished he wasn't but that he couldn't stop and – well, all sorts of lovely, painful, private things. Only he said them out loud in a public place. He was… very convincing.

_I_ was convinced, anyway.

Later, he said that he'd just been pretending, but I'm not so sure. Because the way he was acting… I dunno. I could've sworn we were about to kiss before Patrice's stupid phone call interrupted us. (Guess who forgot to cancel the BFF Fun Day invite?) I – I don't know. I'm confused.

Barney is… he's like a magnet, OK? And even though it probably isn't healthy, I've always been drawn to him. But – it _isn't_ healthy, this thing that we have. We're probably better off as friends. I mean, that's what we decided all those years ago, right? …I just don't know.

Whatever. It's not like I need to make any decisions tonight. And maybe I just imagined something that wasn't really there. I'll sleep on it.

- Robin

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Dear Diary,

I just got back from the 'BFF Fun Day' with Patrice. All I can say is this: Never. Again.

- Robin

* * *

><p><em>Reviews = delicious, magical calorie-free toppings on ice cream sundaes. I'm a fan of these toppings and Barney and Robin happen to be quite fond of them too. Now that *spoiler alert!* they're engaged, I hear they lick them off of one another. Review and enable BR's kinky sex!_


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